


Stronger Knight

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Knightfall (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Condoms, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Licking, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Older Man/Younger Man, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Prostate Milking, Resolved Sexual Tension, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Years have drawn lines in the sand, erased pieces of the past into a fine blur of forgotten memories, but there's one thing that will always remain crystal clear in Tim's mind. There's one night that has always stuck out for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Same universe as [Hopeless Case](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/18616399), years in the future  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "As Far As Love Goes" by Tina Dico

Tim's fingertips pressed harder against the wood of the door frame. He did his best to repress the shiver that wanted to rip through his body at the sight before him, forced his body to maintain a steady breath and an even heartbeat - _especially_ given who was standing only a room away. Biting lightly at the plump flesh of his top lip, Tim allowed himself this one time to unabashedly _watch_ the man who had been the only one to have his every attention for most of his teenage and adult life. 

Bruce dropped his tank top onto the bed, reached for the button on his jeans and popped it open, slid the zipper down and the jeans off in one fluid movement. Those joined the shirt on top of the blanket and Tim didn't quite tamp down on the shiver this time. Bruce's perfect ass was on display for a moment as he bent over, the muscles of his thighs straining as he shifted. That wasn't even mentioning the littering of scars, many of which Tim could _name_ the exact instant they'd been added to Bruce's body, and there was something about that. Something that left him aching to trace them all, to wash the pain away from the memories, chasing them away with the most gentle of touches. 

Tim's breath hitched as Bruce slid his fingertips under the waistband of his boxers, made to push them down his thighs. He let Bruce get as far as the very start of the swell of his ass, saw the peek of the valley of his hips, and he felt _dirty_ watching him in that instant. This was everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd ever built up in his mind, and everything he'd longed to see for _years_. But not like this, not when Bruce was only peripherally aware he had followed him, not when _his lover_ was only a room away.

Turning his head, Tim forced himself to stare out into the hallway, forced his stance to look neutral, like he was trying to give Bruce privacy out of courtesy, not out of how _desperate_ he was. The truth was, his belly was quivering, his cock half hard, and his pulse was skittering in a way he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to. 

A floorboard creaked and Tim's gaze snapped up, finding Clark standing in the hallway, just outside the door of the next room. His shirt hung open still, his glasses perched upon his nose, and a bemused little look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak and Tim felt his heart thud in his chest, felt the anxious rush of adrenaline that followed the idea that he was about to be completely outed for how this was affecting him. 

It was ridiculous, really. Nothing should have affected him so much after all these years, because Bruce _should have known_ everything about how he felt. But he didn't... he _couldn't_. 

Clark shut his mouth, his head tilted to the side just the slightest bit as he regarded Tim, curiosity in his gaze. 

The sound of Bruce's belt brought Tim back to a safer territory, let him know Bruce was far more dressed than before. He glanced into the room, found pressed slacks adorning him, a beautiful grey shirt on the bed, ready to be put on over the undershirt he was wearing. Swallowing, Tim did his best to keep his voice level when he spoke. "You think you take long enough?"

"For someone who was watching most of it, you sure complain a lot." A fourth player, a voice Tim wanted to die just hearing. 

Instead, Tim gritted his teeth and then bit out, "Damian." Most of the time they got along; most of the time they behaved kindly toward one another and even managed to be something like friends. But there were days where Tim wished there was an excuse to wipe a smug look or two off the kid's face. 

A hand brushed over his shoulder and Tim barely held back the surprised gasp that wanted out. Alarmed, he flicked his eyes up to stare right into Bruce's perfect baby blues, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in their closeness, _felt_ how his body responded that Bruce was _too close_. It'd be years since he'd let it show like this, since he'd fucked up so badly that he could barely stop himself from making the most pitiful of noises, from throwing himself at Bruce in the most shameless of manners. But the fact remained that he'd only ever tasted Bruce once; one fated night so long ago when the Bat had been broken and the Robin left feeling like there was blood on his hands as much as anyone else's. 

Bruce's hand squeezed his bicep, the warmth seeping in, grounding him enough to stop him from making an ass out of himself enough that Damian would notice. Clark... there was no way he _didn't_ know, and that was humiliating enough as it was.

Taking in a breath, Tim slipped past Bruce into the room, pulling himself free of his grip. "I'll be quick." With that, he shut the door right in the face of all of three of them, stood there trembling in his own shoes. White hot fire slid through his body, burning all the way down to his fingertips, and he shuddered harder than he could ever remember. He wasn't sure if it was how long it had been since he'd truly been at Bruce's side or if it was the dried up riverbed of his love life that did it - perhaps a combination of both - but he was wound up further than he could ever recall being around Bruce.

Stripping off his shirt, he tossed it on the bed next to Bruce's clothing, heard the others leaving, the rustle of clothing that let him know they were off down the hall. His jeans followed and he picked up the pressed pair of suit pants Alfred had left out for him, slipped into them, leaving the fly open for the moment as he shrugged on the red shirt, did up the cuffs, and then tucked it in. His gaze fell on Bruce's clothing, on the tank top that - even from here - smelled of Bruce's cologne. 

Memories bubbled to the surface, unbidden: the feeling of his tongue dragging over Bruce's palm, the racing of his heart as he'd been allowed to settle down to sleep on the bed next to him, the scent of his cologne when he'd woken up in the morning, pressed so closely to his side. Tim reached for the tank top, picking it up and bringing it close to his body, closing his eyes as he drifted on the sea of that memory, let the scent of it press him back into the one instant he'd felt like he _had a chance_. 

The rap of knuckles on the door and then it opening had him dropping the shirt back on the bed, hastily trying to shove his shirttails into his pants. Everything was in the wrong order, his shirt not buttoned and his pants trying to be clasped together and he _whined_ ; God help him it was _pitiful_. 

There was a quiet sigh and Tim tensed, inherently understanding this wasn't Bruce or even Damian behind him. The door clicked shut and Clark was there in an instant. 

"You're shaking." 

Tim stared up into Clark's face, knowing he looked horribly guilty, knowing Clark had probably inadvertently seen everything already. Clark held out his hands, silently offering to help Tim with his shirt, and Tim dropped his arms, gave a tiny nod of approval.

Clark's warm fingers brushed against him, took the shirt back out of his pants and began to button it up. "I have never been oblivious to your inclinations toward him, you know." He fastened the third button and then began down the shirt, heading towards the bottom. "I can't say I've ever had a problem with it either." Their eyes met and his lips quirked up in a little smile. "I still don't." 

The heat of his hands slid back up to Tim's collar, straightening it, and then finishing buttoning from the third button upward. He had Tim's black tie in hand before Tim could move, was adjusting it around his neck without question or hesitation. "Even when you were starting as Robin, your reactions to him were clear." He reached up and tapped one finger on his ear. "Hard to miss with ears like these."

Tim almost choked. Clark was _dad joking_ with him and of all the times, it was while he was still half hard over thoughts of Clark's own lover. "It's not-"

Clark shot him a look that clamped his mouth shut in an instant and Clark very carefully began to tie the tie. He could have had it done in a half second, but instead he was taking pains to be achingly slow about it, something that Tim didn't miss at all. "It _is_ everything I think it is. You love him in ways a child does not love their parent and you _want_ him in ways usually reserved for little boys with horrible daddy issues." There was a quirk of Clark's lips that hinted that he was _teasing_. "One would have, perhaps, suspected Jason of this."

This time Tim _did_ choke, half a strangled laugh barking out as the tension eased between them. "Jason... just wants to punch him most of the time." He did his best to offer a tiny smile in return, understanding that Clark really wasn't mad at him over things he couldn't change. Their eyes met and Clark settled Tim's tie down, taking half a step back to let Tim unfasten his pants and stuff the shirt back in, let him get himself good and properly dressed this time. 

"Does he know?"

Tim's heart gave a weak little thud in his chest and he sighed. "I never really _said_ it... though there's one night in the past..." he shrugged. "I'd think he would have gotten the point then or that he _knew_ from the way he looked at me. But it's never _been_ anything."

"Do you want it to be?"

Nothing could have stopped the way Tim stared at Clark in that instant. He gave a little shake of his head and breathed out, "Clark, I... you're _together_ , I'd never do anything that would jeopardize that. You _have_ to know that."

Clark hooked his arm around Tim's waist and in an instant Tim was on the bed and Clark was kneeling, helping him get his stupid squeaky polished shoes on. "Oh, I am aware or you would have moved on it a long time ago." He finished tying them in record time and stood, offering his hand to Tim, helping him up from the bed. "I'm still asking you a question. If you had your way, would you be with him? Or is it something you will pine after forever and never actually want to come to fruition?"

Tim stood there, heart thudding in his chest. Closing his eyes, he sighed and breathed out a quiet, "I... Clark, you have to understand something. I've loved him for a long, long time. It's not just about wanting him in my bed or fantasizing about what we could have done all those years on any rooftop in Gotham. It's not just about how he makes my body react or my heart pound." Tim pushed his hands into his pockets and carefully regarded the floor between them. "I've seen him _broken_ , a ghost of a man in every single respect, as good as dead though somehow _not_ , and when I did? I saw the boy underneath and the devil behind him..." he looked up, made sure to meet Clark's gaze head-on, "and I _still_ wanted to find forever with that man."

Tipping his head back, Tim shook his head and then turned away, heading toward the door. "I would never dream of honing in on what you two have. You're good for him and he's good for you. It's a balance I didn't expect, but it's beautiful and I'd never do a damn thing to hurt that."

Warmth slid over him and Clark was _there_ , one arm holding the door shut and his lips close to Tim's ear. "I'm trying to offer you something, something he and I have spoken about many a time. _He_ will not come to you, but he will accept you if you go to him. Have you not noticed that we both find our pleasures _elsewhere_ at times?"

A knot of half-anxiety welled up in Tim's throat and though he let himself rest back toward Clark, he couldn't really believe what he was hearing. "You're... open?"

"Always have been. Bruce's cover doesn't allow for _one_ person and we've known that since the start. He's never settled completely and probably won't for a good many years if he ever does. I find it... _advantageous_ to be honest." Clark's lips were against his ear again and Tim could feel the curve of his smile against his flesh, shivered despite himself. The strong feeling of someone behind him, caging him in... the well of heat between his legs was quick and he almost didn't stop himself from rocking back toward Clark. "Take him home tonight. Ask him quietly back to your apartment and you'll _see_."

"See... what?" Tim didn't stop himself this time, pushing his chest back against Clark's, easing his need with the simple press of body heat behind him. 

"How _aggressive_ a Bat can be."

Tim _whined_ and he didn't bother to stop the shudder than ran through him or the way he whimpered out, "Oh God, _Clark_."

The barest hint of lips ghosted over his cheek and Clark whispered against his ear. "Careful... or I'll think you want me, too."

Just like that, Clark was gone, the door opened and Tim left standing a few feet away from it, heart pounding, cock half hard in his slacks, and his body raging for something he'd been needing for a damn long time now. One way or another, Tim Drake was getting laid tonight. There was no way around that.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole night had been hinting at _awkward_ for Tim. Every time he glanced at Bruce, he found himself thinking about everything he'd been trying to tamp down on for years and every time he looked at Clark, he felt the strange stirrings of arousal that had come with having such a _powerful_ man crowding him against a door like he had. Perhaps worst of all, every single time he so much as glanced at Damian, he found _curiosity_ on the kid's face, saw the burn of chasing a mystery and he _knew_ Damian would find out. Come hell or high water, that kid would track down this particular mystery to the bitter ends of the earth in order to unravel it. 

By the time they were getting ready to leave, there was already a girl hopefully trailing after Bruce, and Tim was growing more and more distressed by the moment. Maybe it was reckless - maybe it wasn't - but Tim found himself gripping Bruce's arm tight in his hand, earned himself Bruce's gaze on him, and then _tightened_ it. "There's a few things I needed to _discuss_ with you _tonight_." 

The girl curled her arm around Bruce's, slid up against his side and Tim felt _jealousy_ flare white hot inside of him. This was _his_ night, the only one he'd ever get the strength to ask for and if Bruce turned him down-

He never even finished the thought, felt his jealousy extinguish as if someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over it, as Bruce extracted himself from her grip, offering her the falsest of smiles, a carefully crafted line about _work_ and how horrible it was, and passed off his number. Tim _knew_ that number, knew it routed through a secretary at the towers and all the names and numbers went into a _hilariously_ little black book that Bruce _might_ call back at some point in the distant future. 

Bruce's hand came to press against the space between Tim's shoulders, gently eased him toward the main doors without a word. They didn't speak, even as they turned in the ticket for the car, even as Tim watched Clark lead a very happy Damian off down the street toward the arcade, Damian not even giving them a second glance. Once they were in the car, pulling away from the curb, Tim finally found his voice again, barely managed to get out, "My apartment," and Bruce - to his credit - didn't even question him.

The quiet sounds of the tires against the road were the only thing between them, the dull rotation of rubber against pavement lulling Tim into a better place inside of his mind. The jealousy tamped down completely as they left the place behind, distance spreading between the hopeful woman and Bruce's presence. It didn't even really matter if he managed to get him into his bed tonight; having his undivided attention for once was something completely novel. The last time he could remember having it was that night, so long ago. 

Leaning back against the leather seat, Tim let his head loll to the side, allowed himself to unabashedly watch Bruce as he navigated Gotham's streets, taking them toward Tim's tiny apartment. He watched the play of the city lights over his features, the way that the streetlights showed how strong his jaw was, how bright blue his eyes were when they caught the glimmer of light just right. A smile tugged at his lips and Tim let it happen, let himself take him in in a way he hadn't in a very long time. 

"You're staring," Bruce said, his voice was a quiet rumble; it was just enough to push Tim's arousal up a notch without a single other thing to push it that high.

Tim tilted his head back and _laughed_ , the first genuine laugh he'd let out in front of Bruce in years. "Yeah... I am."

No further words were shared between them, the rest of the car ride spent in comfortable silence, one that they'd perfected in years of keeping one another company on the rooftops of Gotham. The only difference was location, here on the ground rather than so far up above it.

Bruce pulled into Tim's underground parking lot, keyed open the fence with his own personal pass - something that in all the time since Tim had given it to him, he'd never once used. But when he put in the PIN without a single ounce of hesitation, Tim found himself bursting with pleasure, his heart thumping hard in his chest. It had meant _that_ much to Bruce that he'd remembered it this long: three years of never having once entered it and yet... here they were. 

Three floors down, Bruce parked in Tim's guest space and Tim watched him do the cursory check of the area before exiting the vehicle. The doors clicked shut behind them, the quiet beep of the car letting him know the alarm was set as they headed for the elevator. Fifteen floors up and they exited the lift, Bruce trailing a step or so behind Tim, something Tim knew he'd _never_ grow used to. It was too strange, not being the one a few paces behind, the one watching _Batman's_ back. But it was exactly what it was and he accepted it as such, carefully unlocking his door, taking a moment to listen before pushing inside and disarming his silent alarm system.

Bruce closed the door behind them, latching it as Tim shrugged out of his jacket, reached up and unfastened the tie that Clark had put on him earlier in the evening. His heart sped up just thinking about _that_ , about what had come after it. He knelt to take off his shoes, watched Bruce's drop to the floor from the corner of his vision. Taking in a hitching breath, he undid his cuffs, rolled the sleeves to mid-forearm and padded barefoot through his tiny living room toward the small bar he'd set up. Mostly, he used it for a variety of teas and coffees, each of them elegantly labeled and some of them surprisingly expensive for the rest of his tastes. One day... he'd have to show Alfred.

The thought put a smile on his lips as he fished out the only bottle of whiskey he had, tossed some whiskey stones in two tumblers and splashed the amber liquid in over them. He added a splash of cola to his own, leaving Bruce's neat. Turning, he found Bruce breathtakingly close to him, his hand on the island, his hip pressed against the side of it, and his eyes focused only on Tim. Heart flip-flopping in his chest, Tim offered a small smile and held out the drink. "Thought you might like one."

Bruce took it from his hand, cradled it in his own, never once looking away from Tim's eyes. "You brought me here for a reason."

Swallowing back the myriad of protests that he wanted to choke up, he finally just gave a slight shrug, skirting around Bruce, just barely fitting through the gap between him and the cabinets. A half dozen steps took him to the couch where he settled, feet curled up under his body, glass settled against his calves. Now that it came time to say it, he wasn't actually sure he _could_. Yes, Clark had basically told him he could, had _encouraged_ him to, if he were honest, but it was still awkward. Did he tell Bruce he knew he was in an open relationship? Did he explain himself or did he just _ask_ for what he wanted? Normally, Tim was pretty up front about his desires; could look a lover in the face and spill the proverbial beans about how much he wanted them to suck him off or that he wanted a good ride on their cock. With Bruce, however... it was a whole other ballgame. He wanted, he desired, but he had never really let himself do more than he had that single night in their past and _that_ had been a combination of being so incredibly distraught he couldn't stop himself from expressing his affections and teenage hormones. 

He heard the clink of a glass against Formica and then Bruce was settling right up against his thigh, arm sliding over the back of the couch behind Tim. It was an _invitation_ and one Tim would have been a fool to turn down, no matter how this night ended. He shifted, uncurling his feet from under him and settling against Bruce's side, taking a single sip of his drink before reaching behind him and placing it on the same table Bruce had put his upon. Curling up against Bruce's side, he let himself even out before he spoke.

"I don't know where to start; there's so much I want to say..."

Bruce's hand came to card through his hair and Tim let out a breathy little sigh at the contact, leaning into it with an eagerness he would have been loath to show before tonight. That was it, wasn't it? "Touch me... just touch me. _Please_." There wasn't any reason why it should be any different with Bruce than it was with anyone else. He wanted to be touched, held, to be caressed and _hurt_. He wanted to moan and scream and sob and beg and God, he wanted the world with Bruce. 

"Things never changed for you, did they?"

Tim didn't miss the hint of how much Bruce really meant with that statement, didn't miss the ache in his voice when he said it. He was moving before he could really tell himself it was unreasonable to do so. He pulled himself onto Bruce's lap, settling astride his thighs as he took his hand, dragging it down from his hair, across his cheek, and then right down to his mouth where he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his palm, allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as he took the very same path he'd taken once upon a time. 

This time, it was _different_. This time he heard Bruce's moan and this time he felt Bruce's arm slip around his waist and pull him closer. He let his lips slide down over the heel of his hand, trail over his wrist and then let his teeth scrape over the sensitive underside, lips and tongue caressing right behind the gentle bite. His heart sped up in his chest and his cock was already half hard, trapped in his pants, and Lord he hadn't been this excited since he'd been a teenager.

Giving Bruce's wrist another lick, he let his hand slide down over his mouth and chin, tilted his head back so that Bruce traced down over his throat, fingertips teasing at the essence of choking him, bringing up a pitiful _whine_ and just like that, the floodgates opened, the words they'd been holding back spilling free. "I _need_ this, Bruce... even if it's only once, only one night that you can offer me, I _need_ it. I need _you_." He took Bruce's wrist, guided his hand down over his chest and settled it at his belt, finally looking up at him. "I've always wanted the world from you and if this is the closest to the world I can have, then I'll take it and I'll damn well run with it."

"I'm more than twice-"

Tim barked out a laugh, letting the wicked glint sparkle in his eyes as he reached for Bruce's shirt, allowed his fingers to open the first few buttons, not enough to be naughty, but more than enough to get his point across. "My age? You're kidding yourself if you think that isn't something I'm into." He shifted on Bruce's lap, had to keep himself from settling right against him, from starting to rut himself against him like he wanted to. "That's not isolated to you, trust me." Images of how Clark had been _behind_ him earlier flashed behind his eyes and he almost didn't catch the moan that wanted up. Bruce in front of him, Clark behind... if that wasn't the perfect image, he wasn't sure what was.

"You've always wanted me to overshare, always been too curious for your own good. So, if you must know... you won't be the oldest person to ever bed me. Not by a long shot." Tim took Bruce's wrist again, drawing his teeth over the flesh as he watched Bruce from the corner of his eye, saw the way lust flashed over his features as he did it and he _knew_ right then that while this had never been one of Bruce's things when he'd first done it, it had _become_ one. His younger self, taking one selfish thing from Bruce had sparked an obsession with the singular action and Tim wondered... _had Clark ever tasted Bruce's wrists_? 

"You know," Tim breathed out against damp flesh, "I need the go-ahead or this is as far as we'll ever get." He wasn't sure when he'd dropped the fear of what he was getting into of revealing his hand to Bruce and taken up his usual role in the bedroom, but he wasn't about to complain about it. It was _easier_ this way.

Bruce hooked his arm around Tim's waist, dragged him impossibly close, and then they were moving, standing up and Tim was clinging to Bruce, his heart pounding in his chest at just how _strong_ he still was. He rarely had to show it these days, didn't usually have the need to show off strength over speed and stamina except when it came to his fists. But as muscles bulged under Tim, shifted as Bruce carried him to the bedroom like he was _nothing_ , Tim realized just how much real strength was hidden beneath the surface. 

By the time Bruce eased him onto the bed, Tim was harder than he could recall ever being and his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest, pulse skittering as if he were already riding Bruce for all he was worth. He rolled his hips upward and Bruce's hands grabbed hold of his belt, wrenching it open. Tim frantically pulled at his shirt, buttons opening faster than he could recall ever accomplishing getting himself out of this kind of shirt, though still slower than Bruce relieving him of his pants and briefs. 

Bruce encouraged him to move up the bed until Tim was cradled in between his pillows, until Bruce was _over_ him, arm sliding under the small of his back, holding him tight up against him as he kissed Tim like time was running out. His hands shook as he opened Bruce's shirt as he pushed the undershirt up and _felt_ skin he'd only dreamed of touching in this manner. He distantly heard the clink of Bruce's belt opening, of his zipper being tugged down, and then Bruce was reaching past him, hand searching up under his pillows and coming back out with the lube Tim had been guilty of keeping there since he'd been a _teen_. 

Bruce had _known_ , had to have even then if he knew where it was now, in an apartment he'd only vaguely seen once in all the time Tim had lived here. Slick fingers pressed against him, began to rub the smallest of circles with all the right pressure and Tim _whined_ , arching up and letting out a _cry_ as he came into contact with Bruce's cock. 

A shudder ripped through him and he barely kept himself from humping him right through the desperation-filled fog of his mind, from grabbing him and having his way until he was _finished_. But he knew it wouldn't be enough, would never be, even with everything he wanted, but it would be _worse_ if he didn't get what he'd dreamed about for so very long.

Bruce's fingers pressed inside of him and Tim's body accepted them easily, more _used_ to this than he was willing to admit. He spread his legs further as Bruce pressed the fingers up into him, rocking his hand against Tim's body, giving him more and more of what he was seeking, until Tim was _mewling_ beneath his hand, until his mouth had moved on to his neck, to up under his jaw, teeth scraping there. 

He felt Bruce shift, heard the barest of sounds that he knew meant Bruce had been carrying a condom with him, and then Bruce was _there_ , engulfing his space with all of _himself_ , eclipsing every ounce of Tim's world with his presence. Bruce pushed inside and Tim threw his head back and _sobbed_ and it was the _happiest_ sound he'd ever made. His hands grasped Bruce's forearms, clung to him as he arched and _whined_ , and then the words were pouring out of his mouth, unstoppable, a faucet wrenched too forcefully and left to flood a room. " _Bruce_ , I - I've always... oh _God_. This is what I've _wanted_. _Needed_." He dragged his hands down over Bruce's forearms, feeling the tug of hair against his palm and then shoving his hands back up to feel it again. " _Fuck_ me, God, fuck me until I _scream_."

He could feel Bruce's smile against his jaw and then his lips were next to his ear and _that_ voice - the one he'd heard before on the Bat - filled his every sense as Bruce surged forward, filling him to the very hilt and starting a hard snap of his hips, though his breathing remained steady. "I've always wanted to hear my pretty bird sing for me."

Tim pushed his heels against the bed, _helped_ Bruce fuck him, every single union of their bodies _loud_ in the room as they met one another, time and again. "Say it," he barely gasped out the words, "say my _name_."

Bruce's hips moved faster and Tim saw _stars_ , felt his world fuzz out for a moment at the way Bruce's cock rocked right up against his prostate, and all it took was one _filthy_ little word right against his ear, "Robin," and he was _screaming_ , scraping his nails over Bruce's arms, clutching at him like he'd fall off the face of the earth, fucking himself against his cock as if it were what was sustaining his very life... and then he was cumming and _everything_ stood still for one glorious second.

Bruce was inside of him, his girth stretching him in the best of ways, his length touching him so intimately... and then Bruce's hand was on his cock, stroking him through his orgasm and Tim couldn't _breathe_. He couldn't _exist_ as he shivered and quaked beneath the onslaught of everything he'd ever wanted. 

Gasping, he came back to himself as Bruce started to speed up, his hips snapping quick and hard against Tim's spent body. Tim made the effort to rock against him, no matter how exhausted his orgasm had just left him, and he could feel Bruce tensing against him, could feel the quiver of his muscles that meant he was right on the edge. His fingertips dragged down over Bruce's biceps and Tim watched him as he whined out, " _Bruce_ ," saw him fall apart just the same as he had.

Bruce left himself barren to Tim's gaze in those moments, as orgasm overtook him, as his cock throbbed so deliciously between Tim's legs. He could _feel it_ , the twitch of his cock as he lost himself, and Tim could find no regret in that. He watched the walls crumble and then he watched them rebuild as Bruce shivered above him, trembling from the effort of how _hard_ he'd been fucking Tim.

Licking his lips, Tim let himself flop back against the pillows, let his face display everything he felt, not hiding an ounce of it. "Don't leave me... give me what you gave me that night. Just one more time..." he couldn't finish it, couldn't let himself think this would be the only time he'd ever feel Bruce like this, the only time he'd ever get all of the affection he'd ever craved from him.

Bruce eased out of his body, took care to clean them both up before he stretched out beside him, hooked one arm over his hip and dragged him so close Tim felt like he was closer to him now than he had been when they were tangled up in one another. He slid his arms around Bruce, buried his face against his neck and _inhaled_ , closed his eyes and just _existed_. Because no matter what happened... he'd have _this_ and that was all that truly mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other pairings coming in later chapters, I swear...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same universe as [Hopeless Case](http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/18616399), years in the future  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "As Far As Love Goes" by Tina Dico

Tim wasn't sure what he'd expected from the whole ordeal, but he was pretty sure this hadn't been it. He stood in his kitchen, still wavering slightly from sleep as he watched Clark flit around his kitchen with an ease that should have implied inherent knowledge of where everything was at. He made almost no noise at all, but the scent of coffee that Tim had forgotten to set up before bed had woken him and he'd pulled himself from Bruce's still-sleeping form to come and stand right here, rooted to the spot, watching the impressive display Clark was putting on.

How he'd gotten in or when he'd shown up were still a mystery, but Tim didn't honestly _care_. Seeing him quickly making them breakfast quickened his heartbeat and he finally shuffled toward the kitchen, giving up on being quiet.

Clark paused as he settled a glass of water at one place, a mug of coffee with what looked like the precise amount of creamer that Tim usually took clutched in his hand. Their eyes met and Clark gave him a faintly amused look. "Quieter than your Bat." He held out the mug and Tim settled against the wall next to the door frame, accepting the cup, taking an experimental sip, finding it perfectly meeting his expectations. 

"You do this for everyone he takes a roll with?" The question was half-joking, half-curious and Tim let all of that reflect itself in his words, in the way his lips quirked up just the slightest as he peered at Clark over the lip of his mug.

"No." Clark went back to flitting around the kitchen and before Tim knew it, the eggs that had been cooking on the stove were on two plates and the hash browns on a pate between them, hot sauce and ketchup on the table beside them. "Only the ones who show me some interest."

Tim didn't stop the surprise that filtered across his face or the huff of breath that came out in a guilty half-laugh. "I wasn't supposed to wake up yet, was I?"

Clark was suddenly _there_ , right up in his space, and Tim's coffee mug was settled on the table behind Clark. "I would not have made the coffee if you weren't supposed to wake up." His fingertips grazed under Tim's jaw and Tim shuddered, reaching one hand back to clutch at the door frame just to stop himself from his immediate reaction to someone being this close to him, especially when they were looking at him like _that_. "Do I miscalculate your interest?"

Heat lanced through Tim and he pushed himself away from the wall, reached up to clutch at Clark's red plaid shirt, shifted his fingertips to flick open the first snap, eased down to the second and leaned into Clark's warmth. Already warmth pooled in his belly and fire grew in his veins and he could have laughed at himself. Clearly it had been far too long if he'd found himself in Bruce's arms last night and was already this revved up over Clark's simple implications. 

Clark's fingers carded through his hair, gripped and tipped his head back. His mouth was hot against Tim's, his tongue insistent but tender. There was a strength even in this that Tim _instantly_ knew why Bruce was drawn to him. Bruce could hand him control, could let go of the reins and _exist_ with Clark. 

Tim trembled as Clark lifted him, settled him on the lowest counter and stepped between his legs, hands sliding down over the pajama pants Tim had hastily thrown on and then slipping up over his thigh and right to the very evidence of his arousal. His fingers wrapped around Tim's shaft, slowly stroking him through his pants, their lips meeting again and _this time_ Tim grabbed Clark's shoulders, clung to him as he rocked against his hand, lapped at his mouth like it was everything he'd ever wanted, and Clark _moaned_ for him.

Shuddering, Tim pulled back, dropped his hands back on the counter and spread his legs even more, bracing against the cabinets as he started to thrust up into Clark's hand, watching what was happening, his lip caught between his teeth as he unabashedly _humped_ against Clark's hand.

When Tim's head fell back, a broken little _whine_ leaving his throat, Clark moved again and before he knew it, Tim's pants were on the floor and he was sliding against Clark's bare chest, clutched to him in a way that spoke of a desperation to _have_. He let himself grin as he hooked his legs around the back of Clark's thighs, rocked himself against the evidence of the Man of Steel's _arousal_. "If I didn't _know better_ , I'd think you wanted _me_."

The next instant, Tim found himself in the living room, found himself pressed against the back of the couch, Clark between his thighs, both of them gloriously devoid of clothing. He clutched the fabric of the sofa beneath his hands, dropped his head back as Clark's mouth _worshiped_ him in a way Tim wasn't sure anyone's ever had. His hips jerked and he panted out a quiet, " _Clark_ ," unable to stop it from bubbling up.

Tim felt his body yielding, felt the way his muscles fluttered and eased, the way his cock strained and trembled, and _God_ he'd never thought he could find so much pleasure in less than twenty four hours.

The couch dipped and Clark was _there_ , pressed right up against him, the head of his cock pressing against his slick entrance. 

"Tell me you want this."

Tim reached for Clark, let himself grip him harder than he would have usually held onto a lover, let his fingertips dig in with most of his strength. His hips rolled and he whined out, " _Please_... please I _need_ you."

And then Clark was there, his length filling him, all hot flesh and iron hardness. Clark's body seemed to dwarf him then, caging him against the back of the couch as he loomed over him, making him feel smaller than he was, making him feel _helpless_ and Tim closed his eyes and imagined a hand around his throat, imagined struggling for his every breath as Clark began to thrust into him.

Tim's nails dragged down Clark's skin, his shoulders pushing at the couch as he rocked his hips quick and hard against the cock invading him, fucking himself down onto the glorious feeling of being _filled_. His muscles quivered and his cock strained so hard away from his body. His balls were tight up against him and he was _already_ so close he knew he could cum over and over this morning if only someone let him. 

Clark slammed up into him and Tim felt the _power_ of it, could feel the restraint so he didn't break him and he wanted to _scream_ for Clark, wanted to wake Bruce up so he could join them, so he could be pressed between both of these exhilarating men, so he could feel small and helpless between the protectors of Metropolis and Gotham... and so he could feel _powerful_ when he made them both cum for him.

The floorboards creaked right behind him and Tim reached out blindly, felt hands slide down over his arms, over the dip of his armpits, and then down over his pecks. A kiss was placed on his lips, fleeting and then a hand grasped his cock and gave him two languid strokes as Clark thrust up into him, quicker now.

Tim's eyelids fluttered open, found Bruce watching him, pupils blown, his cock hard and unhidden from their gazes, and that was the last thing Tim needed to shove him screaming over the edge. Tipping his head back, he _wailed_ Clark's name, clutched Bruce to him in a way that was _sure_ to bruise as his hand clenched that hard around his wrist. Cum splashed up along his abdomen, Bruce stroking him through it until he was _sobbing_ Bruce's name, babbling incoherent fragments of all the sentences he wanted to string together. 

Tim _wanted_ in a way he hadn't in a long, long time. He wanted Clark's strong thrusts and he wanted Bruce's body behind him. He wanted to feel them _both_ , and he wanted to _taste_ everything they both had to offer him. Most of all, he never wanted it to end, just wanted to live in _bliss_ forever.

Clark's hands pushed against the couch, his thrusts growing shallow and quick, and Tim watched him instead, panting for his breath as he stared up into Clark's face as it contorted in absolute pleasure. He watched he way his tendons stood out along his neck, the way his biceps flexed, and how he was clearly holding back _so much_ as he thrust. 

Bruce's lips ghosted over his ear, breathing out, " _Feel it_ ," and then Clark was cumming, his cock throbbing inside of him, every pulse of it more powerful than Tim would have expected. His own body moved with it, the jump of Clark's cock as he shared his load with him pushing Tim right back up toward his edge again. He didn't stop himself from _begging_ when he felt the twitches stop, when he felt Clark start to leave his body. "Please, oh _fuck_ , please. _More_."

Clark shifted away from him, laid himself out on the couch, and then Bruce was there, helping Tim up on shaky legs. He urged him toward Clark without a single word, easing Tim down to lay against Clark's chest and Tim breathed out a quiet sigh of happiness as he rested against the warm blanket of muscle that was Clark. 

Bruce pressed up against his back and Tim _knew_ he was about to be absolutely wrecked. There was no question, no hesitation, only Bruce's cock sliding into his pliant body, filling the ache of loss forming in his body from the absence of Clark's within him. It was _different_ , his thrusts measured differently, his power similar but his own, and Tim knew he'd never get enough of _this_. His toes curled and he pulled his knees up under him, giving him leverage to _ride_ Bruce's cock with the way they were positioned.

Tim's hands came to rest on Clark's chest and he watched him as he fucked himself back on Bruce's cock, watched he pleasure dancing in Clark's eyes, the quirk of his lips and the _heat_ of his gaze as he looked between he and Bruce. Arching back, Tim hooked one arm around Bruce's neck, turned to sloppily kiss him and then to simply watch him as they _fucked_. His thighs and his belly trembled, desperate for release and aching from all of the sex, but he wouldn't have given any of it up for the world. 

Their positions shifted just slightly and Bruce's cock slid past his prostate and Tim _wailed_ , hips jerking frantically, trying to make it happen again. 

Bruce's powerful hands dug into his hips, yanked him back against his cock, and then Bruce was _rutting_ him and _every single one_ of his thrusts was _right there_ , right against Tim's prostate, rubbing over and over until Tim could feel the saline dripping down his cheeks, could feel nothing but the overwhelming pleasure, and think of nothing but these two glorious men he was caged between. 

Clark's cock rubbed against his own and before Tim could even ask for the last thing he needed, he was being given it. A warm hand engulfed both of their lengths, pressed them tight together, and Clark began to thrust. The friction was the last thing Tim needed and he let out a broken _sob_ as he started to cum, this time jerking his hips and letting loose a shower of desperate sounding moans as he did. His cum showered down over Clark's abs and Bruce's cock slammed up into him and stilled, twitching as he filled Tim as well. 

Another weak little orgasm followed the second, cum barely dribbling out of his cock, but it left Tim humping Clark's hand regardless, left him rutting right against Clark's aching cock. Bruce pulled out and in an instant Clark was inside of him, the thrusts so fast Tim couldn't really register them. Bruce kept him held back against his chest, his lips moving soothingly over his neck as Clark worked for his second orgasm and when he felt it start, Tim was only dimly aware that he'd stopped breathing. 

"Breathe, _Robin_." Tim's vision faded and then snapped back as he gasped in air, choking on it for a moment before he was shaking inside, his body feebly trying to offer him up another orgasm despite his already softening cock. A few more drops of cum slipped free and Bruce's finger gently gathered them up, his tongue licking them away, and Tim closed his eyes, barely croaking out, "Best... morning... _ever_ ," before he let himself sink toward the sort of sleep born of exhaustion, cradled against Bruce's chest, Clark's length still buried inside of him. _Nothing_ could have told him otherwise.


End file.
